


A Moment of Quiet

by asimplemind (softly_speaking_valkyrie)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee, Dates, Dating, F/F, Kissing, Lesbians, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), Mutual Pining, Pining, Reminiscing, Romance, Rough Kissing, Shopping, Surprise Kissing, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, just talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softly_speaking_valkyrie/pseuds/asimplemind
Summary: Shortly after her dispatch to Kirkwall to meet with Sebastian Vael and the Champion of Kirkwall, Leliana returns to Ferelden as her lover Desiree Tabris, Warden-Commander and Hero of the Fifth Blight also returns to Denerim. In the six years since they felled the Archdemon the couple have rarely seen each other, but in her reprieve from Divine Justinia's service in the Free Marches, Nightingale has the promise of a whole day with her beloved Warden. The pair reminisce of their time over the country fighting the Darkspawn and talk of the political struggle gripping from Kirkwall to Val Royeaux between the Magi and the Templars. Desiree wants to leap into action in the name of the mages and cure the injustice gripping Thedas, but as Left Hand to Most Holy, Leliana is bound by other obligations to steel her adoring wife. All is wonderful until Lady Seeker Pentaghast approaches with dire news from Justinia...
Relationships: Leliana & Warden (Dragon Age), Leliana/Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Leliana/Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	A Moment of Quiet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hiddenfaithy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiddenfaithy/gifts).



> Big shoutout to Hiddenfaithy for letting me write her beautiful PC from Origins - Warden-Commander Desiree Tabris, Alienage Elf and Flame of the Dales, Hero of the Fifth Blight. I love this elf and it was a total pleasure to write her and Leliana being this adorable for a day. Also I love writing in Thedas, the strife and genre of High Fantasy it exhumes couldn't be nicer to sink my fingers into. Look forward to more!

“Embrium?” Leliana asked, her cheeks rogue yet she was unnerving enough not to let her splinter of passion leak through the cracks in her facade.

Over the years since the culmination of the Fifth Blight she’d been someone entirely separate from whom she was just now. The redheaded vagabond who had aided the Warden-Commander to fell the Archdemon atop Fort Drakon had seemingly slipped into obscurity almost immediately after the coronation of King Alistair in Denerim. Around the same time, Divine Justinia V the Most Holy acquired a fervent young acolyte to operate as one of her most effective agents to date – Lady Nightingale. It felt like another lifetime since Leliana had seen Denerim from this standpoint again, now with a fresh stem of Embrium in her fingers and the sweet aroma often attributed to apothecary filling her nostrils over the scent of freshly cooked nug chops and the other trashy smells wafting around the Denerim bazaar. It was safer to meet here – surrounded by hordes of endless and unsuspecting bystanders.

No one worth their salt who partook in the cluster that was The Great Game would even dare to have her assailed by sellswords in broad daylight anyway. Not even the novices at the witty sport would think to attack her while she was in the company of her Elven flame.

Desiree Tabris – Ferelden’s Warden-Commander, Flame of the Dales, Hero of Denerim, and the woman to have felled the Archdemon not a few miles from the very bazaar and the one to quell the Fifth Blight. Above all those accolades, all the silver and gold that adorned her name on every scrap of correspondence to Amaranthine and Vigil’s Keep, even the mountain of sovereigns that were owed to her namesake, Tabris was Leliana’s love, and her whole world. Or what semblance of a physical world the agent of the Divine managed to keep far removed from The Great Game. Even so many years following the end of the Blight, with all of them seeing Leliana as one of the hands of her Most Holy, the redheaded rogue had kept Tabris safe from that side of Thedas, that shadowy and murky reality of her embroiled life.

And not a day had gone by where Leliana had not thought of her Elf, nor had Tabris herself stopped thinking of her dearest of companions. Buried deep within their hearts adrift, the women were finally together after a tsunami of parted years. Even if it was for only a day.

Tabris had collected the Embrium for Leliana at a moment’s notice, despite its reputation as a poultice blossom. She had always loved the bloom of rose red budding from the verdant petals. Even years after her uplifting from the Alienage, the simple flower had been a favourite. Leliana knew this, and her hardy and agent facade of a face cracked for her love. She smiled, almost outright laughed as she held the single flower by the stem and took her elf’s hand into her grasp.

“You know Embrium is a flower most usually used in apothecary, no?” Leliana asked, clutching Desiree closer to her side as they began to move in step. The crowd moved with them, obscuring their position around the many stalls of the bazaar – Nightingale’s habits were still all too alive and forced Leliana to look as inconspicuous as she could, even with her Warden Commander love standing right next to her.

“Can’t deny it smells amazing, right?” Tabris rebuked, keeping close to her flame.

Even in her blue and steel Warden regalia she looked as normal as ever, almost as plain and elvish as the day she escaped the projects that were Denerim Alienage. Still, there was no denying the crest emblazoned upon her breastplate – Warden Commander. Not only that, Desiree was the commander of all the Grey Wardens in Ferelden (of what still relatively few their remained). Her darker flesh and pointed ears were a stark but (at least, certainly to Leliana) gorgeous contrast to the bright blue and almost regal cut of her regalia. She wore it proud too, if albeit a little scruffy like the rest of her. Strands of darkened hair escaped the rest of her bun and fell down her forehead as she smiled – the years had come with a hunt of confidence to grace the Warden-Commander. Leliana smiled, looking up from the stall of books she had dragged her Warden to; nothing had thus far taken her non-concerning eye anyway, only a dusty old tome about Andraste that could not be anywhere near the truths and softly-touched nuances she and Tabris had uncovered while searching for the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

“Despite all your ruffian dealings in the past six years, my love,” Leliana smiled, trying to fight the gnawing sensation in the back of her aloof mind that was the persona of the Nightingale, fixing the collar and cuffs of the strapping elf. “You still manage to smell and look divine.”

“You’re trying to flatter me,” Tabris jerked, pulling her hair out almost entirely after Leliana fixed it for her. “You always do, darling.”

“I have yet to hear you say you don’t like it, dear,” the redhead smirked, her tongue poking a little between her juicy lips.

She’d painted them, even added the touch of lilac to her blush. All the paint made her cheeks and beauty mark stand out more prominently, a distinctly Orlesian tactic usually reserved for one of the many courtly functions. Of course, Leliana had toned it all down, if only just to make an effort to see her Warden. The holy woman dropped a pair of bronze into a woman’s coffers and took a small weave bag into her arm, dropping the delicate Embrium stem into the bottom and linked arms with Desiree to feel more comfortable.

“Now tell me, pet, how is Orlais these days? I trust the Empress is keeping well?” Leliana found herself asking – she’d been out of the Empire for some four years now and in that time Tabris had approached the Orlesian ranks of the Grey Wardens for yet more support in bolstering the numbers of the Ferelden Order. Duncan had left many a lingering woe for her to fill, but she was trying.

“It totally confuses me that anyone is able to handle themselves in a court like that!” Tabris almost bellowed, breathing her frustrations. “It’s nothing but fancy masquerade balls and everyone trying to get into bed with one another while in a second breath hiring assassins, sellswords and completely besmirching their names! It’s like they totally get off on the whole thing!”

“You said this last time you went, my love. I’ve told you...”

“It’s all part of The Great Game you Orlesians play; I wasn’t made to play something like that,” she dismayed, feeling a gentle squeeze from the rogue on her arm to revive her spirit. “Warden-Commander Clarel doesn’t seem to play it at all; she’s the only person of all substance at half the parties – those she even attends.”

Leliana was slightly smirking, knowing all about the Orlesian Warden-Commander for some time even before she and Tabris were schmoozing for support. The enchanter was a woman of substance, yes, but one of fairly weak substance when the situation called for it. She had completely disregarded the urgency of the Fifth Blight when Loghain had closed the borders and didn’t intrude at all upon Ferelden even with the Archdemon setting upon it like a winged plague. There was so much more to the mage than she sensed her lover didn’t know yet.

“Clarel de Chanson is an enigmatic woman, no?”

“She hardly ever answers the Empress’ summons.”

“An Orlesian should know better than to ignore Celene...”

“The Warden-Commander doesn’t even strike me like a stereotypical Orlesian,” Tabris continued, even as Leliana dragged her around the stalls, looking from pelt cloaks to some of the worst imported Antivan blades either of them had seen since the Fifth Blight. Zevran had taught them both on the road what a real dagger from his homeland looked like; everything on the rack of the two-bit smithy looked as tacky as they did fake. “She ignores the Empress, hardly talks or engages at functions, and mostly keeps to herself – if I wasn’t Warden-Commander myself I doubt she’d even answer my ravens.”

A soothing hand came across Desiree’s shoulder, the warmth of a former-bard filling her bones with love and consolation. Their lives were so disparate but when Leliana touched her like that, it felt like they were wandering Ferelden again, cuddling close in their sleeping rolls on the road with the caravan of Bodahn Feddic and his son Sandal. Closing her eyes for but a moment, Desiree could even hear the younger dwarf mutter on repeat ‘Enchantment!’ and laughed a little as she held Leliana’s hand and kissed it. It felt good to be back with her after the years even if it was for a day.

“With all honesty, love, there are _many_ in Celene’s court who do not strike one as typically Orlesian,” Leliana frowned, picking out a vial of some extract and dropping some silver in another coffer. She stood taller than usual, taller than her Desiree by only a couple of inches and smiled.

The way the light crested down from beyond the angular and even thatched roofs of the burghs and rayed down into the bowl that was the Denerim bazaar, it caught the red hints of Tabris’s flesh perfectly. She was positively glowing, polar to her rough and hardy demeanour, she looked almost angelic. All the talk of the court of the Winter Palace in Halamshiral made her almost fawn to be back there, stride into the grandiose hall of the dancing chamber with Celene overlooking from the miniature balcony, the black and white tiled marbled flooring guarding against heeled boots and dancing shoes. The massive vestibule overtaken all night long with the parties too meek to engage in The Great Game inside of the main hall. Leliana did miss it in some way, a very large part of her, akin to heritage but certainly nothing of the like. Most of her ilk originally would not engage as she had done, and the redhead could tell that Desiree Tabris couldn’t stomach the ever-continuous waltz that was Orlesian courtly life.

Leliana could protect her there, could aid her in all her endeavours – with the Nightingale at her side, as her bride and as her partner like Leliana wanted it to be, Tabris would acquire all the support she could ever need for the Ferelden detachment of the Grey Wardens from now until the emergence of the inevitable Sixth Blight whenever that would be.

Desiree sighed, her body shifting up and down in her blue and steel regalia. “I don’t know how you could ever do it, Leli...”

Her lover looked down, seeing the elf even still wearing her mother’s boots. Would she ever take them off? Leliana knew the answer. “Oh my love,” she graced, cupping her elvish partner’s cheek and stroking her gently. “I’m Orlesian, no? Some in Ferelden would say it is in our blood,” she smiled. Desiree saw the curl in her pinkish lips and couldn’t help but feel infected by the inclination of stout pleasure. They held each other’s hands, coming to a small cove in the middle of the inquisitive crowd. It felt freeing blending into the crowd of nobodies, even for Tabris, to be back in Denerim so close to the Alienage years later.

“Denerim doesn’t have as many cafés as Val Royeaux, that’s for sure, even six years after Eamon and Alistair’s rebuilt it...”

Desiree almost dismayed, rebuked at how similar the Market District looked to the old flashes she had seen during her time fawning from the Alienage and then during the Landsmeet debacle. The intrepid and roguish elf certainly didn’t miss the politics of Denerim (even with a Grey Warden on the throne to listen to her needs) any more than she was glad to find a moment’s reprieve from the eternal dance of the Winter Palace. At least with Alistair she could take faith in what he said.

“It still has The Pearl, no?” Leliana smirked, her fingers giving her darling elf another gentle squeeze. “I was told Sanga made sizeable alterations to the layout of the brothel following the havoc the Archdemon bestowed upon the city.” She always almost laughing by the time she’s finished – Tabris was mouthed agape and almost perturbed by the mere mention of The Pearl.

“At least Val Royeaux doesn’t advertise its brothels...”

Leliana snaked around her lover, pushing the basket bag up her arm and holding Desiree in her arms, feeling like she would never let the Grey Warden go again. She had seen flashes of her elf in the six years following the end of the Blight, but this was something else. Since returning from her detachment to Kirkwall, Leliana had felt almost downright existential when dwelling on things. In the corner of her vision she spotted a small procession moving from the estates toward the main bridge leading to the outskirts of the city limits – five Templars and a pair of Magi. It was overkill, almost as bad as Meredith’s precautions against the magic-users across the sea in the Free Marches. Something had to give.

Something was going to give; Leliana knew it, the Divine knew it too, everyone seemed to. Warden-Commander Tabris looked where Leliana’s vision was leading and spotted the procession of the Templars and the Magi and reflexively reached for her splendid daggers. Nightingale pressed her hand to the elf’s and stopped her, springing her glare to pounce upon the redhead.

“Come, my love – there is a small teashop in that cove over there,” Leliana pushed her way back into the forefront of her changing persona, her serious demeanour softening into a loving smile. “It’s been too long since we have shared a cup, no?”

She could feel Desiree wanting to unsheathe both of her daggers and fall upon the heavily-armed Templars; she wasn’t even the only person looking at the gilded knights of the Chantry leading the less than innocent-looking magicians through the city proper. And yet neither Tabris nor the looking on crowd could do anything or the two unlucky ones.

“Would be nice to share a cup with my love, before we must depart...”

“You would think Most Holy would realise what kind of madness her Templars are spreading these days,” Tabris jabbed, indirectly but still knowing it would hit Leliana in some way. She was lucky her partner knew her stance on the mess that was the relations of Templars and Magi. “Shit... Leli...”

The redhead rogue stepped close to her again, just as the gilded Templars had obscured themselves behind one of the many cobblestoned walls leading away from the market. The rest of the laymen were already returning to their shopping routines and Leliana had Desiree in her arms again, cupping her gentle face and looking resplendent with the rays of sun still shining down from above the roofs.

“I understand, my love... Really, I do.”

“Your position isn’t something I should be getting worked up about – I’m not even!” Tabris tried to retract, trying to iron out what she had said and what she had meant.

It was a little confusing, a little annoying too given that she had just been ripping her hair out over what she had to say in Orlais. The last thing she wanted was to trip over herself and fall into an argument with the one she loved the most, but what she meant about the Divine was somewhat what she really felt. Apathy on Justinia’s part stabbed at her heart when her beloved was almost a heartbeat from her. 

Leliana was not upset, however. She held Desiree’s cheek softly but firmly, almost dropping her basket and leaning in so she could kiss her eternal love with the full force she wanted. Sparks were almost flying – the longevity since they had properly spent time together melted into show and then a river, washed away in moments as Desiree found Leliana’s hips and held them for all she could. She never wanted to let her go, the Warden-Commander and her beautiful and dark Nightingale forever. The Chantry could piss off, Justinia too – the old woman was the most important figure in all the world, but Desiree couldn’t give a toss for her when Leliana was kissing her, her body close adorned in purple fabrics more costly than anything the elf had ever owned (even more expensive than her Warden regalia). The Maker was absolute – but Leliana was _real_.

“If I thought my position close to Most Holy had become an issue, there would be none in Thedas who knew me as Nightingale,” Leliana breathed, her breath like a wave of life wrapping around the Warden-Commander and holding her close.

“Sometimes I’m _sure_ Justinia is just a front and you’ve been the source of all her missives these last few years,” Tabris smirked, leaning in for another kiss before Leliana could stop her.

When they broke the redhead was slightly smirking too, but more coy than her elf counterpart. The duality of beliefs within the Alienage woman had always been something private, but occasionally her nonchalant rebuking of the Chantry’s exaltation was something peculiar. Leliana still smiled, knowing it was nothing serious, and the slightest bit humorous. They walked again, Leli directing them toward the small teashop at the edge of the market without Nightingale feeling the need to check all the faces of those sitting outside and standing around the small seating area under the wooden decor.

“Be fair, my love, if I wanted to be the next Divine, I very much _could_ ,” She joked, only with half a smile and glint in her wondrous turquoise eyes.

They sat and ordered within a moment from an elvish waiter a little smaller than the average for his age. Desiree expected to recognise him or know his name from the Alienage but couldn’t remember anyone fitting his title or description from her days within its walls. Staring into her small cup of Denerim Standard she reconciled that time had most definitely moved on from her days before the Fifth Blight – Denerim had done the same too. Just looking back into the centrepiece of the market, around the international stalls from Orlais, Starkhaven, Kirkwall and other free cities in the Free Marches, Desiree could tell that the world was changing along with Ferelden. It was moving faster than she had realised at first glance too.

Leliana sighed from the first sip of her tea, smiling at the small delight in the less than lacklustre brew compared to the splendour of the pots she indulged upon in the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux.

“Must taste like shit compared to Orlesian brew, right?” Desiree smiled, knowing what her other half was thinking. Years of the even the occasionally taking of tea with her told Desiree that Leliana always cared about the brew.

“You know I enjoy the ritual wherever I find myself taking it,” Leliana smiled back, her hand reaching across the small table to clench the fingers of her companion. “I would not change this short meeting for anything in all the world. Thank you for coming to Denerim to meet with me... I’m unsure when we’ll next be able to find time...”

“Something coming up?” Desiree probed, hiding her own schedule in the process; not even the most observant of rogue could tell they each had something more professional to confess to the other – it was simply that Desiree didn’t know if she had the courage to explain what she wanted to.

“I fear for Kirkwall,” Leliana confessed.

“You’ve feared for the city for years, though. What’s changed this time? Meredith gone off the deep end? I can dispatch some Wardens to sway Stroud into intervening...”

Flashes of verdant turquoise stabbed in a glare. “You can’t. Stroud can’t!” Leliana almost stomped, passion pluming in her beautiful eyes. “Meredith is half the issue. Since the Qunari lay siege to the city and the Champion took it back, the lack of a Viscount...” She sighed, her thoughts racing in her mind and catching up with her. The whole situation in the City of Chains was a geopolitical nightmare that the Divine wanted her Nightingale to view so meticulously it threatened to tear Leliana apart. But she didn’t want Desiree to see any of her internal strife. “It all reads as a combination for a disaster even Most Holy fears – what Meredith is doing to the Magi...”

“Could spell doom on all the world.”

It wasn’t Leliana, but another procession coming towards them both at the table. Soldiers and a knave or two, all with swords in scabbards and no heraldry but the sigil emblazoned across the leader’s bosom, Leliana smiled at them but Desiree steeled her glance, falling on her position of Warden-Commander. In reality, the two forces would possibly oppose without the onslaught of a Blight. Desiree had always managed to keep the leader of the procession at an arm’s length for the most part and with one eye open because her wife was concerned and embroiled with them now.

“Warden-Commander Tabris,” the woman greeted, bowing before Desiree but not softening her rather disgruntled look. Leliana had explained that was her naturally resting face for the most part.

“Lady Seeker, a pleasure as always.”

“Forgive my intrusion, Leliana, but the Divine has sent a raven,” Lady Cassandra Pentaghast explained, her fist across her chest and bowing before Nightingale with the rest of the small procession of swordsmen. “We are to leave for the Free Marches immediately.”

“I’ve just returned from Kirkwall barely a week ago, Cassandra...”

“Most Holy fears that Knight-Commander Meredith has gone too far completely. Our detachment is to travel to the city and remove her from her position immediately. We’re to transport her to Val Royeaux for the Divine’s judgment,” Pentaghast explained, the twirl of her Nevarran accent adding more spice to the aura than anything in any of the tea.

“Meredith isn’t going to bow down before even Most Holy in a hurry. I hope you know that, Seeker...” Desiree mused, remembering the singular time she had met the Knight-Commander on one expedition to the Free Marches a long time ago. Kirkwall had been a mess even then and thus was still a mess now, albeit a long leaderless mess.

“What did Most Holy commune?” Leli asked, her fingers squeezing her lover’s hand. She didn’t want to go, even on the order of the Divine, even to the place she was almost most fearful of at present.

“It is to be now, Leliana...” Cassandra ironed out.

Nightingale rose to her feet, sighing heavier than she ever had – she wanted to remain, be with her lover and forget the rest of the absolute mess that was gripping the world piece by wholemeal piece emanating from the Free Marches. The showdown between Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino had seemingly set in motion a domino chain of events that was hurdling the world to total catastrophe. Grand Enchanter Fiona was matching her wits and elevating her own voice against the Divine in Orlais, and with Orsino no doubt in contact with her from Kirkwall it was less than a coincidence that the tension was to a boiling point. Nightingale looked to Desiree as Cassandra read the air and led the soldiers to the side, giving her fellow agent a moment.

“I know...” Desiree sighed, getting out of her seat too. “At least I’ll have time to meet with Alistair before I file out of Denerim...”

Leliana dismayed, reaching for her lover again. “Where will you be going next? The Hinterlands? Teagan always loves your company in Redcliffe, as does Eamon...” She continued to sigh.

“I’ll go back to Orlais; there’s some Grey Wardens I still want to reach out to, and there’s been some troubling reports among some of Clarel’s people,” Tabris shrugged, knowing the same routine would continue – the world kept turning and making a mess of itself, but she was a Grey Warden, regardless of being Warden-Commander at that, she was a Warden.

Her wife cocked a brow. “Troubling reports? Another Blight?” She immediately thought. It was always the first question and concern on everybody’s mind when anything about the Grey Wardens was mentioned. Leliana had been there in the very bowels of the Orzammar Deep Roads and had seen that beastly Archdemon rise above the armies of Darkspawn moving underneath a narrow bridge leading from the Legion of the Dead. She knew the realities of a Blight. But this was not a Blight, Desiree knew that for certain.

“No, I’m pretty sure. There’s nothing about an Archdemon, but something I should look into.”

Leliana looked almost sodden, her eyes gleaming and wide and begging for her love not to go, for Cassandra to retract her statement and leave them be for sometime between now and forever. It hadn’t even been a courtly date, something of the courtly love that the Orlesians loved to commission from bards a plenty; it had just been... talking. Talking between two lovers who had not seen their other half in so long it felt almost like meeting each other for the first time once again. Their relationship had been so much of that of late – months and even years from meetings and Desiree didn’t feel at all surprised that the Lady Seeker had come to interrupt her outing with her wife.

“It won’t be like this forever,” Leliana told her, surprisingly. She’d never said anything like that before; in the past there had seemed no end in sight to her service to Divine Justinia, and yet now she seemed disgruntled with her existence as the Most Holy’s Left Hand. “We find the world needing us both as of late, no?” She almost chuckled.

Desiree couldn’t take it any longer.

Her hands were on the former bard in a flash and the Grey Warden Elf had her lips on Leliana’s almost forcefully, needing to kiss her with all her might. The redhead mellowed into it with a desperate mewing in the back of her throat feeling her lover’s tongue inserting in no time. Both could see the Lady Pentaghast spying on their snogging but neither cared how much she looked – no one outside of their little coterie of concealed friends would ever know the true lengths and depths of their relationship. It was a small game of cat and mouse, the whole thing instigated on the night before the march to Denerim to fight the Archdemon with a long since fled witch. As Tabris kissed her even deeper, Leliana feigned a cry, a little guttural in the back of her mouth. Her chest rose and fell with ecstasy and she wanted to cry out for privacy before she had to leave, and then remembered Cassandra seemingly judging her by each passing second.

They broke apart, Leliana smiling a warm jeer as she wiped her lips and gave Desiree another peck on her cheek, forcing her to blush like a child. “Please do look after yourself. And give Celene my love if you happen upon the Winter Palace, no?”

“I’d rather stab myself than attend another pointless ball, Leli... But I’ll keep my correspondence with her open,” Tabris blushed, kissing her lover’s hand in a chivalrous display.

“Leliana...” Cassandra demanded.

“You better keep her safe in the Free Marches, Lady Seeker.”

Pentaghast leered a little, her somewhat tense knowledge and formal relationship with the Warden-Commander almost comedic to at least her. “You have my word, Lady Warden-Commander...”

“I’ll hold you to that, Cassandra,” Desiree feigned a chuckle before holding her lover’s hands again and looking to the floor. “And I’m holding you to _this_ ,” she mused, pressing her lips against Leliana’s again in not a forceful kiss but one of pure bliss that would shake them both to a zen Nirvana . It was a gorgeous breath, something akin to Desiree’s ancient and Dalish gods, but something also of the Maker. The perfect marriage of the ancient and the wide-spread, both halves to Tabris’s somewhat controversial personal makeup. Leliana never cared about that – when it came to her wife, all other forces upon them were secondary.

“I love you...” Leliana breathed.

“I love you more,” Tabris smiled. “Go help Justinia... Make sure there’s something left of a world we fought for the last time we were here, right?”


End file.
